


Lola + Frank

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: (Sex does NOT happen in the Lola suit), Drunk Messaging, Excited!Gerard, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Lola Suit, M/M, Mall AU, Two Shot, nervous!frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank works at the Cinnabon in the mall which, unfortunately, faces the lair of the most terrifying creature in the entire shopping center--Lola., the grinning mascot for the overpriced Soothing Smoothies. One night, however, Frank sees what's really going on inside the costume and he realizes he's going to have to set his fears aside if he's going to win over the handsome person in the pink, fluffy suit...or work up the courage to say more than three words to him, or ask his name. </p><p>Good thing he has alcohol. And Facebook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FranklyMrShankly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FranklyMrShankly/gifts).



> The joy that is Lola is not in this fic. Poor Lola has been reduced to a costume, commercialized and used for consumerism. I am sorry ):
> 
> Part-Two will be up soon!

At first, the mascot scared him. Okay, terrified him; but after getting work at the Cinnabon in the mall, he had to get over that terror. Not only did his kiosk face the Soothing Smoothies which served as the giant mascot’s home base, it was also the only place in the food court where he could get a snack on his lunchbreak that wouldn’t make him sick to his stomach. 

If he wanted to get a Green Harvest and soy milk smoothie and save 10% with his mall employee discount, he was going to have to walk past… _it._ Lola…

They had the nerve to give that unsettling, grinning monster a name—a prissy, friendly, cheery name. 

“It’s a little late for your lunch, don’tcha think,” Amy, the Soothing Smoothies clerk, said as Frank approached the counter. It was going on eight-thirty and everything would be closing down in the next thirty minutes. For a Saturday night, the mall was surprisingly slow, but it had rained later in the day—keeping most of the mall goers at home.

“Yeah… I was wondering if I could buy my smoothie now, but—if it’s not any trouble—could you make it a little closer to closing?”

“Sure, sure,” Amy said, waving her hand dismissively. 

“I just don’t want it to get all…runny,” Frank said, looking down the corridor out the corner of his eye. Lola was coming, carrying a big circular tray full of unwanted sample smoothies. 

“No, it’s fine. We do that all the time back here so we can still have a fresh drink for the drive home,” she said.

“Um… Yeah, can I—can I get the strawberry and passion fruit? And…and can you add a b-banana?” His mouth was running dry as Lola came closer and closer…and closer.

“Sure,” Amy said, looking at Frank with confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Frank said, pulling out his wallet with shaking hands. He hoped that if he kept his head down, the monster with the sleepy grin would go away. 

“That’ll be four twenty-five,” Amy said.

“What?” Usually his drinks were closer to five or even six dollars with a banana added. He really wished the girl would pay attention, because every second she wasted, the closer and closer Lola came to him—grinning that unsettling grin, perky ears flapping with every calculated step.

“The smoothie mix expires tonight and our bananas do, too. I discounted it for you. Just don’t tell Mrs. Bradley.”

“Oh—okay, thanks,” Frank said, wishing he sounded more gracious. It was hard to think of anything else as Lola came closer and closer.

He paid for the drink, but couldn’t get away from the counter in time.

“Hey, do you want these samples? I think I’m done walking around…” The voice coming from within the suit didn’t fit with the idea Frank had always had about it. The person inside the terrifying costume—a _costume,_ Frank reminded himself, just a costume—sounded tired and disheartened.

“What? But you’ve still got thirty minutes left,” Amy said, not exactly scolding, but not joking either. When Amy spoke to it, Lola was distracted long enough for Frank to be able to hurry back to his own kiosk—able to avoid having to take any samples from the creepy, cat-bear-monster. 

Lola didn’t get to quit handing out samples though. Amy sent the monster away with its tray of samples and Frank finished cleaning up his kiosk for closing time. 

He spent most of the time planning his course of attack—how he would get his smoothie and avoid getting any closer to the mascot than he had to—but that plan, he realized, was dashed at five-minutes to close when the big, pink monster was handed a large pink smoothie and started his way.

“Fuck,” Frank whispered under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“What’s your problem?” His coworker asked, scrubbing the last of the sticky glaze off the shelves of the display case.

“It’s coming over here?”

 _“What’s_ coming over here? Mrs. Bradley?” his coworker asked.

“No—Lola,” Frank groaned.

“What’s your problem? Lola’s cool.”

“Here’s your drink,” the monster said, setting the pink smoothie on the counter in front of Frank.

“Th-thanks,” Frank stammered.

“Hey, Lola, do you like wearing that thing?” His coworker asked, laughing in jest. 

“It’s hot…but it pays my bills.”

“How much do you make walking around in that thing?”

“Minimum wage, same as you,” Lola said, turning and walking back to the Soothing Smoothies.

As soon as the clock struck nine, Frank witnessed what he’d never seen before. Every other night he did his cleaning and kept his head ducked so as to avoid looking at Lola. Tonight, however, he watched as the pink monster reached up and pulled off its own head.

It wasn’t that Frank didn’t realize there was a person in the costume, but it still shocked him to see a mess of black hair spill down against the shoulders of the furry, pink suit. The person shook their head, fluffing the long, black strands. Then they turned around and Frank’s mouth went dry from something other than fear.

It was so unexpected. The person wasn’t a scary, terrifying monster like Lola. The person was…actually very appealing to look at as they shuffled toward the employee break room where he must’ve kept his change of clothes. 

Once his kiosk was closed, Frank couldn’t help but stall to leave the building. He took a long time pulling a straw from the plastic box on the counter, took forever to unwrap it, waiting for the person to come back from the breakroom. Sure, he could’ve gone to wait there or hid outside the bathroom doors to catch them leaving, but he didn’t want to stoop that low. 

Then, as he sipped his smoothie and cleaned the counter one last time even though he was practically alone and off the clock, the person reemerged, dressed in black skinny jeans and converse, and a baggy sweatshirt that contradicted how tight his pants were.

Frank couldn’t take his eyes off him and followed him toward the doors, hurrying to catch up while trying to look casual by sipping his smoothie.

“It’s a good thing it quit raining, right?” Frank said, trying to make small talk as he hurried to open the door for the man who looked startled by Frank’s decision to jump out in front of him, even if it was to get the door.

“I-I guess…” The man said.

“So you’re…you’re the one in the Lola costume, right?” Frank asked.

“Um… Yeah. Why do you care?”

“No reason I…I just wondered.” Frank tried to think of something else to say, anything to keep the conversation from stalling out, but nothing came to mind. 

“Okay,” the guy said, hurrying out the door and disappearing into the dark of the parking lot.

Next time, Frank though. Next time he’d surely get to say more.

( ) ( ) ( )

Lola wasn’t so scary, Frank felt, now that he knew who was inside the mess of pink fur. It had been a week since the awkward door encounter, and Frank thought now might be a good time to greet him again. He hoped the man had forgotten how awkward he’d acted before and this time he’d make a good _second_ first impression. 

The night was slow and Frank managed to slip over to the smoothie kiosk to order himself a drink for the ride home. He tried to talk himself out of it, but the words still slipped out as he fished a ten dollar bill out of his wallet.

“So… Who’s the guy in your Lola costume?” Frank asked.

“Gerard. He’s a cool guy,” the clerk said, not looking up from her register.

Gerard, Frank thought. That was a unique name—an attractive sort of name that fit a guy who looked like him.

“Doesn’t get paid enough to walk around in that _thing_ though,” the girl added. “I had to cover his shift once—thought I was going to _puke_ it was so hot in there. And people are _rude_ too. A little kid screamed and ran away from me so her daddy had to come get in my face. It’s awful. I don’t know how he does it.”

Contented to tell her story, she didn’t seem to think anything was off about Frank’s random question.

“Guess he must be desperate for a job,” Frank said.

“He says he just does this job for gas money. He works at the t-shirt design company on Lex Ave.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He says they mostly let him do the club shirts for the local high school, but I don’t know much else. He keeps to himself.”

As she handed him his change she started grinning.

“Why do you ask? Do you like him or something?”

“What?—No. I just wondered. I mean, I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Right,” the girl said, not believing him for a minute. 

_Fuck._

“We’ll have it ready around eight-fifty. Okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said. “Thanks.”

Frank tried to mentally recover from the awkward discussion before it was time for him to close up the Cinnabon and pick up his smoothie. It didn’t help that he was reminded of how idiotic he had to look to the smoothie clerk every time Lola would come back to the Soothing Smoothies kiosk to pick up more samples. She would smirk over at him once Lola—once Gerard—was gone with the fresh samples, knowing right away that Frank’s wasn’t simply curious about the other man.

Then just as Frank was about to pick up his smoothie, Lola returned to drop off the last of the samples. Frank hesitated, tempted to hide behind the warming case even though no one was looking at him, and watched as the clerk started talking to Gerard. Frank thought it was absurd that his first fear was the girl telling Gerard about him—of course she was probably telling him about something business related, a discussion of the schedule maybe.

But then why did Lola turn and look at him?—That creepy grin plastered on its white face…those arching eyes scrutinizing him…

Then Lola was gone, hurrying to the break room and employee bathroom to change and Frank was able to come grab his smoothie.

He tried to act like he didn’t notice the stares, but it didn’t work out like he’d planed. He’d already caused irreparable damage it seemed.

“I told Gerard you were askin’ about him,” the girl said, grinning at him like her decision to act like a little matchmaker was something to be proud of.

“Why? I just asked what kind of guy puts himself in a big pink ball of hair and calls it a job,” Frank said, his defenses rising. He didn’t want made a fool of. He didn’t want to be the faggot attracted to the Hairy Pink Giant. 

“Oh…” His tone must’ve frightened her but the smile immediately left her face. “Well…here’s your drink. Sorry for…whatever.” 

He took his drink from her, regretting immediately how abrasive he’d been. She didn’t do it to make fun of him—he didn’t need to be _that_ defensive. 

Frank kept his head down as he returned to his kiosk to clock out, trying not to look over at the smoothie kiosk or the girl behind the counter who was speaking to her coworker. He glanced up in time to see Gerard walking out the building and waited a moment before leaving as well, not wanting to look like he was following him and to keep from crossing paths with him at the door.

If he spoke to Gerard again, Frank decided, it would have to be in a month or more if he wanted to recover from this… He felt embarrassed for what he’d said, knowing she would tell Gerard how little Frank seemed to think of him.

Frank didn’t care that Gerard’s job made him wear a pink, fluffy suit. He still thought Gerard was attractive, and he seemed to be—from the bare minimum that Frank knew about him—a decent guy. He worked, at least, which was better than Frank’s last boyfriend—a useless mooch who drank most of his money and skimped on the rent payment.

Frank kept his head ducked as he hurried to his car, not letting himself look up and scope the parking lot for Gerard to see what sort of car he drove or if he walked. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard talked himself out of it three times. He had his Facebook page up and kept peeking at Frank’s mostly private profile. He told himself he was being irrational—for many reasons. One, it wasn’t _that_ big of a deal to add someone from work as a friend. They worked together in adjacent kiosks—they were practically neighbors. However, he was being irrational too for thinking that the small intrigue Amy told him Frank had for him was any more than that—an intrigue. 

After all, what sort of loser let himself stoop so low as to walk around in a fluffy pink suit, scaring children all day while handing out samples of overpriced smoothies? 

A friend request didn’t mean a friendship. It didn’t mean a date. It didn’t mean a boyfriend.

Frank had tattoos and a punk haircut. He didn’t want to shack up with a loser in a pink mascot costume…

Gerard almost worked up the determination to close his laptop lid for the night and give up on the foolish idea when he heard a ping from phone and a red light lit up on his screen. 

He thought at first it was another message from his mom—she probably “liked” another one of his photos from two years ago as she drunkenly perused his timeline—but as he came closer to his laptop, he saw that it was a friend request.

“No way,” Gerard said, eyes lighting up as he hurried to his desk and dropped into his seat. “No way, no way…” He clicked on the notification and couldn’t help the grin that overwhelmed his face. 

1 Friend Request.

Frank Iero.

Frank—Frank from work Frank!

He didn’t have to stress about adding Frank anymore because Frank had added him!

If he accepted it right away though, would that make him look desperate?

Gerard leaned back in his seat and stared at the request, considering giving it an hour or two before responding. But then he decided what the hell. What did he have to feel ashamed of? They were both grown-ups who’d gotten off work four hours ago… It was a Wednesday. It wasn’t like anybody had an exciting Wednesday night life Gerard needed to envy or pretend to have. After deleting a couple of embarrassing things off his profile and making his single relationship status public as opposed to private (where he’d kept it out of embarrassment), he accepted the request and immediately started clicking through Frank’s preciously locked profile.

He was single too, and interested in men! and his profile was full of pictures—him with dogs, him at work, him with family, guitars, and on vacation. Gerard was so immersed in his searches he barely noticed the first notification that came through, or the second—but the third definitely caught his eye.

All of them were from Frank.

Frank had liked two of his statuses and his profile photo.

Amy hadn’t been lying. 

Frank did like him. 

After liking another photo, a message popped up in the bottom of Gerard’s screen.

It was Frank.

Gerard swore he almost _swooned_ because it was a message from Frank. Someone who looked like Frank was talking to him. Someone _cool_ like Frank was talking to him.

“Hey.”

It was brief and simple, but it was still something. Frank said something first that didn’t start with “aren’t you the freak in the pink suit?”

“Hey. How’s it going?” Gerard replied.

Immediately, Frank started answering. Gerard could picture him typing away as he watched the little speech bubble ripple with dots.

“Goood. Bored, tired. Btu good.”

“Same,” Gerard replied, not sure what else to say.

The little dots didn’t start up again and Gerard became nervous that his one-word answer caused Frank to lose interest and go away. But then, just as he was about to really feel his spirits sink, the bubble appeared with the cheery little dots and Gerard was grinning just as much as Lola.

“Before I say anythnig too stupid, you shld know Im a little bit drubk.  
*drumk  
**damn it, DRUNK”

Gerard laughed as he watched the correction kept popping up. It should probably have been a red flag that Frank was essentially drunk texting him on Wednesday night, but any attention was better than nothing. 

“Drunk on a Wednesday?” Gerard asked.

“Honesly… I had to do somethng. I wanted to say hi at wrk but I got nevrous.  
You cant’ get nerous if you’re drubk.  
*DRUNK OMGF YES I CANT RYPE DRUNK. D-R-U-M-K”

“You mean drunk?” Gerard asked, giggling still.

“DAMN IT.”

“It’s okay. I’d drink too if I had to work with all of those cinnamon rolls and couldn’t eat them all. So depressing,” Gerard said.

“Im alerfic to cinamon. Thats why I wear the long cloves.  
*gloves. I dont wear herbs at wrk.  
*WORK.  
Jesus Christ I look like a dumbass rightnow don’t I?”

“I don’t think so :) ”

“Well youre jsut being nice.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to be nice to you?” Gerard typed. He hesitated a moment before clicking send. Frank was drunk, not the state of mind he needed to be in for Gerard to start expressing his interest. 

“Cuase Im drunk as fuck and bugging you.”

“You’re not bugging me :) ”

“Im Drunk.”

“That’s okay. Was work stressful or something?”

“A little. Theres this guy I like but I keep acting weird inseatd of saiyng hi.”

Gerard stared at the words for a moment, not sure whether to trust the excitement he felt. There was guy that Frank liked, at work, and he was drunk because he wanted to talk to this guy but was too nervous sober… But he was online, drunkenly babbling at Gerard. Did that mean he liked him? Or did he like Tom? The mixer for the smoothie bar… Maybe he was just talking to Gerard in hopes of getting to Tom.

Gerard was about to type a vague, supportive answer, but then Frank’s speech bubble appeared again.

“Its u btw haha. I dnot care if you wrar a big costime. Thing is sugly, but yoru==re cute.  
Im wasted.  
Im sorry.”

“It’s okay. You might need some sleep though,” Gerard replied, starting to think that maybe Frank’s affections were based entirely on the alcohol.

“Probbly, but Im talking to you.”

“Trying to talk to me is more like it lol.”

“Sorry. Im bugging you aren’t I? My bad.”

Gerard tried to type back that it was okay, he didn’t care, but then the little green light by Frank’s name disappeared and he was gone…


	2. Chapter 2

Frank had thought he’d ruined any chance he’d ever had with Gerard after the night of bad, drunken messages. He’d logged out to stop himself, then promptly logged back in and started making things worse—not just liking Gerard’s pictures, but then sharing them with all of his friends to the extent that his mother called him the next morning and asked why he hadn’t told her about his new boyfriend.

When Frank was at work, though, Gerard acted like nothing was amiss. 

Frank became perceptive of his presence, even catching it as Gerard came into work dressed in his street clothes. Gerard would see him and would smile—then wave just a little as he made his way to the back to change into his costume. At first, Gerard didn’t say anything about the drunken messages, but on the third day back from work, Lola approached him.

Knowing how bad it would look if Frank shuddered or trembled, or turned to hide, Frank forced himself to stand perfectly still as the terrifying monster drew nearer and nearer.

“Hey,” Lola said, the voice muffled by the pale, frigid, grinning mask.

“H-hey, what’s up?” Frank said, swallowing hard.

“I’m on break.”

“Oh,” Frank said, turning his eyes away. It was Gerard, he reminded himself, hiding inside that costume. Somehow, that didn’t make him any more comfortable. “Um…about the other night—I’m…I’m really sorry about that. I was wasted.”

“I could tell,” Lola said—Gerard said, laughing. “I…I didn’t mind. I mean… I wish you _didn’t_ share my bad hair day selfie with all your friends, but—”

“It was cute,” Frank mumbled.

“What?” Gerard asked, tilting his big, furry, pink head. That creepy grin was even more unsettling when it was tilted at an angle like that. “The…the mask makes it hard to hear,” he added when Frank didn’t repeat himself.

“I thought it was cute,” Frank repeated, so thankful his boss was taking a smoke break and wasn’t around to hear the confession.

Gerard giggled a little and scratched the top of his—Lola’s—head.

“Well…I’m glad you think so.”

“Sorry about that,” Frank said again.

“It’s nothing. I… I was wondering if you wanted to get a pizza later. My brother’s gone out to his girlfriend’s for the weekend so we’d have the place to ourselves.”

Frank kept his head ducked, not just to help him forget that Gerard was inside the Lola costume—the terrifying Lola costume—so he could pretend he was in street clothes, but also so Gerard couldn’t see him blush.

“That would be—yeah, that’d be fun. Um… I get off at nine like always.”

“Me too. Um…Well, I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, looking up and smiling. “See you then.”

Lola backed up from the counter and scurried away to the break room, posture a little strange—as if Gerard were trying to hide his excitement, his head ducked and his hands clasped in front of him.

When Lola had gone and Frank stopped staring after it, he caught the girl from the smoothie kiosk staring at him, smirking and looking on the verge of laughter.

So much for keeping his crush a secret…

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard wished his offer for Frank to come over wasn’t so…spur of the moment. His apartment was a wreck—soda cans everywhere, beer bottles on the counter and filling the trash. Fast food bags on the couch, on the floor, on the coffee table…overflowing ashtrays on seemingly every surface.

He and Mikey really needed to clean more often.

“Just a second,” Gerard said as he and Frank approached the front door of the apartment. “I just have to…make sure everything’s…” Gerard didn’t really finish his sentence. He let it trail off as he unlocked his door and slipped inside, leaving Frank out in the hall clutching the pizza. 

Hurriedly, Gerard grabbed a trash bag out from under the sink and started stuffing all of the garbage he could fit inside—clearing away bottles and food wrappers, empty boxes and cigarette butts with ash. He wiped down the kitchen counter, stuffed his dirty laundry under his bed, made sure the toilet seat was clean, then ran back and let Frank inside—blushing a little in embarrassment when Frank merely stood there and smirked.

“Sorry,” Gerard said, backing up so Frank could come inside.

“Had to hide the bodies or something?” Frank asked, giggling a little.

“What bodies?” Gerard asked, momentarily confused about what Frank meant. Did he mean other costumes? 

“The bodies of your exes—you know. Or the noisy neighbor.”

“Oh,” Gerard said, giggling nervously. “No…It’s just messy.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said. “I’ve got a roommate. I know how men live.”

They sat down on the couch after Gerard grabbed them a couple beers from the fridge, the pizza box open and splayed over the coffee table. Gerard turned the television on and then flipped trough channels until he found a movie playing.

“So…how did you get a job working as Lola?” Frank asked.

“Ah… I filled in once for the girl who used to work there. She went to my school. She quit the next night and since I did ‘such a good job’ handing out the samples, they offered me the job,” Gerard said. “It’s not the best, but at least no one knows it’s me in there. I tell all my friends I work in receiving—you know, unloading the trucks and stuff.”

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of it,” Frank said. “I mean…” Yeah, even he struggled to find a redeeming trait in the job. 

“I get to make little kids cry. It’s horrible.”

“Yeah—I’m scared of Lola.”

“You’re scared of Lola?”

“Terrified,” Frank said, looking Gerard in the eye as he took a large bite of pizza. 

“Why? Lola’s not scary… Lola’s…pink and furry and warm.”

“It’s that _face,_ dude,” Frank said. “The eyes are just ugh! And the grin is like _no._ ”

“I kind of like that the eyes are closed,” Gerard said. 

They made small talk for a while about the costume design, then Frank let Gerard talk about his other job at the t-shirt design shop. Frank kept bringing in more and more bottles of beer, then offered to pour Gerard something a little stronger.

“Not too strong,” Gerard said, giggling—his cheeks flushed a bright red. 

“What, you want me to make you something girly?” Frank asked, looking through his cupboard and then riffling through his fridge, looking for anything he could use to dilute a drink.

“I-I could do a rum and Coke if you’ve got it…”

“I have Coke,” Frank said, taking the bottle out of the door of his fridge. “I don’t have any rum though.”

“Tequila?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah—I’ve got that.” He only had a quarter of a bottle left, but it would be enough to get them through the night. Or at least to the next half of the show that was beginning to set up stage in Frank’s mind. 

He poured a drink for himself and one for Gerard—a much stronger one for himself—and then took them back to the living room. They sat through the first twenty minutes of a comedy movie that came on TV, sipping their drinks. Then, all of a sudden, Gerard set his glass down on the coffee table and bounced—literally bounced—closer to Frank on the couch.

“Hey,” he said, staring at Frank and grinning.

“Hey, what?” Frank answered, mind more than just a little bit hazy. 

“Hey,” Gerard repeated, giggling. His face was so red and his eyes were shining. “Just hey.” He laughed again and scooted closer until his thigh was pressed up against Frank’s.

“Oh,” Frank said, his eyebrows rising up just a little with intrigue. “Hey,” he said, his tone lower—more seductive—as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Gerard’s soft cheek. 

Immediately, Gerard turned his face away, laughing so hard one would’ve thought Frank had tickled him. 

“You know what?” Frank said, letting the booze in his system do the talking.

“What?” Gerard asked, turning to look at him and biting his lip anxiously—trying to hold back his grin. 

“I think you’re pretty hot,” Frank said, laughing himself at how corny the words sounded coming out of his drunken mouth. 

Gerard laughed at him, then leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Frank reached out and put his hand on Gerard’s arm, bracing himself and pulling the other man closer as their lips pressed together. At first, Gerard kept his lips pressed firmly together, but the more Frank kissed him, the more relaxed he became until finally—finally—he opened his mouth and let Frank’s tongue inside. 

It was hot and wet, and even though Frank was counting on it, it still surprised him when the other man climbed into his lap. Gerard placed his hands on the angle of Frank’s neck, holding him still and stroking his jawline on one side with his thumb. 

“I’ve got—I’ve got a nice bedroom,” Frank said in between heated kisses.

“I like it here,” Gerard breathed, moving his mouth down Frank’s throat. He sank his teeth into Frank’s pulse and started sucking on the skin. 

“It’s—ah! It’s a big bed,” Frank moaned, eyes rolling back as the sharp pleasure-pain tore through him.

“I like the couch,” Gerard panted, running his hands down Frank’s sides and then catching on the hem of his shirt. 

Frank tried to say something—something along the lines of ‘you’re fucking incredible’ or ‘you’re so fucking hot’—but Gerard mouth was smashed against his again, only freed when the other man pulled away Frank’s shirt, then his own. 

Words began to escape him, though, as Gerard pulled away and slid down onto the floor. 

“Are you okay?” Frank asked, not realizing until the other man started pulling at the buckle of his belt that things were still progressing. He stared like an idiot as Gerard pulled his belt free of the loops and tossed it behind him, knocking over an empty glass from the coffee table and sending it t to the floor. He didn’t even look back. 

Frank licked his lips and swallowed hard, watching as Gerard moved to grasp the button on his jeans, then the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” Frank breathed, his hands starting to shake as he reached forward to stroke Gerard’s hair. Who would’ve known the man in the terrifying Lola costume was a blowjob-on-the-first-date kind of guy? Frank had thought for sure it was going to take a few weeks—not a few bottles. 

Gerard looked up at him, licking his lips—leaving them parted, the supple, red lower one glistening with his spit, swollen from their kissing.

“Is… Is this okay?” Gerard asked, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah—yeah, this is fucking perfect,” Frank said, his heart pounding as he watched Gerard reach forward as if in slow motion. Frank scooted forward on the couch, sitting on the edge as Gerard pulled down his zipper all the way, allowing his boxer-clad erection to poke out through the part in the denim. 

Gerard make quick work of the boxers, then wasted no time wrapping his hand around the base of Frank’s cock and pressing his lips to the tip. He kept his eyes locked on Frank’s as he ran the head over his bottom lip before opening his mouth and sucking the tip inside. 

Frank’s eyes fluttered closed and his head tipped back as Gerard started taking him in deeper and deeper. He couldn’t fit it all, but he sure as hell tried. What he couldn’t reach, he pumped with his hand. He kept his tongue pressed against the slit, teasing it and collecting drops of the precum. 

When Frank could keep his eyes open, he watched his length slip in and out of Gerard’s hot mouth. Gerard tried to bob his head quickly, but kept pulling back too far and would drop Frank from his mouth, then stare as if confused for a moment before attaching his lips to the head again—though not before licking a few hot stripes up from the base. 

All the while, Frank kept stroking Gerard’s hair, only daring on occasion to pull him closer, forcing the other man to take him deeper into his mouth. The more he pulled, however, the more Gerard would moan, sending pleasurable vibrations through Frank’s cock. 

With the alcohol in his blood, it was hard to stay focused. Frank wanted to just tip his head back and let go—give in to the wetness and the heat—but he kept getting distracted by long eye lashes, thick hair, swollen lips…deep eyes. Such deep eyes.

What was going on in them? Frank wanted to know what was going on in Gerard’s head—beyond the alcohol, beyond what the alcohol was encouraging them to do. Who was he? Other than a mascot, other than a t-shirt designer… Who was this guy? This pretty, beautiful, handsome guy?

Gerard pull him out of his thoughts again, sucking the tip and fisting the base of Frank’s cock as quickly as he could, trying to set up a rhythm. His movements were sloppy—drunken—but he was trying hard to keep his focus, still moaning as if he were enjoying giving head as much as Frank liked receiving it. 

That thought was enough to tip Frank over the edge, spurts of hot cum striking the back of Gerard’s throat and filling his mouth as he pulled back. He didn’t swallow and ropes of the hot, white fluid spilled past his lips and dripped down onto his bare chest. 

Frank stared at him, shaking a little as he came down from his orgasm. Gerard grabbed his own discarded shirt off the floor and started wiping his face clean. Once he was done, he grabbed Frank’s shirt off the couch and pulled it on over his head, seeming to be a bit surprised when it didn’t fit him properly, then climbed onto the couch beside Frank, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“You… You want me to—”

“No. I’m okay,” Gerard said, smiling. His voice was a little raw as he nuzzled Frank’s shoulder.

“You sure?”

“Yeah…probably can’t…drive home, though.”

“That’s…that’s fine,” Frank said, putting an arm around Gerard’s shoulders and pulling him closer until they were both slumped over on the couch, Gerard’s head resting against his chest. 

“Your bed was big, you said?” Gerard said.

“Yeah.”

“Mm. It’s not the only thing,” Gerard hummed, nestling down a little further—showing no intention of going with Frank to the bedroom. He seemed quite content where he was.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was trying hard to keep from blushing as he packed up the elderly woman’s box of cinnamon rolls. Lola was standing across from his kiosk, waving at him. It would’ve been terrifying on any other day…before their night together on the couch almost four months ago. Now, Frank was just eager for the old woman to slip away so he could leave his kiosk and go on his date. 

They were going to the park today. 

Once the woman was gone, Frank clocked out and hurried over to his boyfriend, looking past the terrifying pink suit to the hot, sweaty, beautiful man hiding under all that fur. 

“You clocked out seven minutes ago—why are you still wearing that?” Frank asked, giggling.

“Mm… I need help with the zipper.”

“Oh, is that right?” Frank asked, raising one eyebrow and trying to not look too excited as the two of them started their walk to the employee break room.

“Yeah. It’s stuck in my fur.”

“Ah—just like last time?” Frank asked.

_“Just_ like last time,” Gerard said.

“Then I guess this is gonna take a while.”

“Probably going to have to skip lunch and just go for dinner.”

“I still want to go to the park,” Frank said. 

“We’ll get there,” Gerard said as they walked into the breakroom. There were a few of the older ladies from the pizza shop sitting at the break room table who gave them both a knowing stare as they walked into the single stall bathroom together. 

“Zipper’s stuck,” Frank said, giggling at the ladies as he closed the door just in time for two, warm arms to wrap securely around him.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is bad, and I feel bad. 
> 
> Remember me as I was, not as I am...


End file.
